The Green Guy
by PeechTao
Summary: How does Harry survive the fianl battle? Well, he doesn't, but I say he should have. Here's my spin on it all, short oneshot, hope you like it. PLease no flames. I'm a recovering pyromaniac


Well, I wasn't planning on posting this, but, heck, why not. So here ye are, a spidey-based book of the third movie. Short, just recounts how the movie should have ended with Happy Harry alive as we would all want him to be!

"The Green Guy"

It was less than he wanted, stuck in this terrible reality, with Peter no less. He didn't want to save Peter, necessarily, after all that had happen. He convinced himself he was there for MJ and nothing more. He knew it wasn't true. He wasn't out for her, heck he wasn't even out for the sweet ride on that air-board. He owed Peter one. And if he died, who cared right? His butler? Mary Jane might cry, that was expected. He'd die a hero. But was it worth it?

He didn't know. It was hard to think of that now. Now when he might actually die. _MJ might cry._ He thought of it in flashes, as each hit from that sand stung into his eyes, gritted into his teeth, consuming every orfase. He thought of how they would dress, like the day of his father's funeral. Pete would probably wear the same lame suit since he hadn't the money for a different one. MJ would dress like a goddess of death. Beautiful, but covered in black. Dashing, yet full of sorrow. It saddened him to think he may be the cause of her unhappiness. That distraction cost him a granite sock in the gut. He lost balance of his sky-board. He fell, dazed through the sand-thick air. He would hit ground in four seconds - three - two -

Bloody Pete. He saved him the sorrowful piece of elastic web. He's off again, to face the black, goey guy. _Wish I had a name for him._ Harrythought sublimely, flying, slicing, and shooting his rockets_, Wish I had a name for me. There's a crowed cheering Spidey and me. I haven't got a name, so I have been dubbed "Green Guy!" I hate touirsts. Shouldn't there be more running and screaming? I wish. _

Harry seemed to get some form of reprieve. The sandman had to regroup himself after that last shot, so Harry looked around for Pete and MJ. As he thought, they were in a world of trouble. And not just trouble. Pete was going to–

This sucked. He was going to risk his life . . .no die . . .for that good-for-nothing false friend of his who has lied since the day his father died. Now Harry was going to waste his life on him. Ungrateful little arachnid. How did his life come down to this?

Mary Jane's make up would make her look pale, drawn looking. Maybe it wasn't the makeup. Maybe she just went to the blood bank for a donation the day before the funeral. Perhaps the thought of finely being rid of the rich bachelor was comforting. Not to forget he left everything, everything to her. What was he thinking? He should really remember to change that if he gets a chance. His butler should get something. Maybe that fancy table in the dining room, or the piano. He always did like that piano.

The knives slid into his back. He didn't really feel them at first. He was looking at Peter and thinking, y_ou so do not deserve this_ _you back-stabbing twit_. Twit? He wasn't sure where that came from. Maybe the blood loss. It was major, erupting even before the goey-guy pulled the knives from his chest and flung him down an empty well to a couple floors below. Now it hurt. It hurt a lot.

He could hear sounds, like bells but louder going off all around him. He couldn't imagine what Pete was wasting his extra time playing bells for, but it was frustrating him. He felt someone grasp his hand, and instantly he perceived sandman had returned to finish him off. He groaned, twisting his body to crawl away. He needed a weapon, sword, pipe, anything to beat the creature over the head with.

"Harry?"

He stopped, opened his eyes halfway. "MJ?" he asked in shock. Hadn't Pete gotten her out of the building? He couldn't count on the wall-crawler to do anything right!

"Harry? We have to get you out of here."

He laughed in his mind at the thought. She needed to save him. HA! "No," he heard himself say, "Its, no use . . ."

"Shut up, and get moving."

Wow, he was again surprised. She was being a bit forceful now. He kind of liked that. But he still knew he was going to die, and to sit there like she was and deny it was simply annoying. "No." he told her flatly. "MJ . . ." his voiced left. He couldn't breathe anymore. It was too hard. He began to feel fire crawling from his wounds, spreading to his fingertips. It was dizzying. He couldn't think strait. Who was there? MJ?

"Get . . .up . . ." She grunted, pulling him from under his arm pits. He cried out. His emotions falling away into a puddle of blood he leaked behind as Mary Jane dragged him to his feet. Could he make it? It was a long way to the first floor, and he didn't remember seeing an elevator. She obviously hadn't either as they headed for the stairwell.

He had begun to take a few, strong steps, leaning against her with one arm, the other tracing along the wall.

"Harry!"

It was Peter who screamed it, not MJ as he would have thought. He turned, sluggishly, eyes raising to the form of the black menace, poised, talons out heading straight for them. Adrenaline was on over drive. He hadn't the energy to think, he just moved. He pushed MJ down the flight of stairs. It wasn't unintentional, and he hoped she was well after the tumble, but it was necessary. He dove beneath the first pair of claws, only to receive a glancing blow of the second down his right cheek. Four long vertical gashes that leaked the already precious little amount of blood he had left. He lifted a fist and buried it in the symbiote's gut. By the scream, he figured it was a nice hit. He followed it up with a left across the jaw. As the black ooze staggered, Harry fell against the railing of the stairs. He was holding dearly on to prevent falling head over heels down the stairwell.

He underestimated the exuberance of the symbiote. In moments the guy was back on him, snarling and drooling. His razor claws and teeth bared. Harry could only await the blow.

Peter blocked it. He appeared from nowhere the way he usually did. He took ten slashes right to the chest for him. What a guy.

Harry watched it, surprise never having left his face from the previous exploits that caused it to come. He was out of ways to help. He tried to manage the stairs, but tripped, falling their length to the bottom as Mary Jane was on her way back up, battered, but otherwise intact. He refused to move for her this time. She had to just let him go.

"Harry, we aren't leaving without you!" she yelled at him, her voice piercing his already tolled out senses.

"You have to! For Pete! Get out of here!" he pushed her a little, it was weak, but manageable.

She looked uncertain, wouldn't she be? The symbiote shrieked, coming down for Harry once more.

He pushed her again. "MJ, go!"

Through red face and tears, she turned and ran. In a way it hurt him. Only because it was the last time they would see each other alive. He just knew it. The symbiote was on him, snarling in his face. Harry gritted his teeth at him in utter defiance. "Bite this, tar-head." He unclipped his final bomb from his belt, shoving it down the monster's throat.

The symbiote backed off him, hacking, trying to breathe back the bomb.

Pete must have seen the move, for in an instant he was at Harry's side. Together, and sharing the pain, they carried each other down the stair flights, leaving the sound of the imploding/exploding creature behind. Halfway to the bottom they staggered. Harry fell into the corner of the landing, barely keeping his feet. Peter has hung over the rail, breathing equally heavy.

"Can you make it down?" Peter asked.

Harry made to laugh but it only came out as a bloody sputter. He began sliding down the wall . . . Peter moved, slowly over to grab him. Together they lifted each other up and headed down once more.

"You're a hero, Harry. You know?" Pete was saying, as if to keep him awake. "I heard them calling you. Nice isn't . . . sometimes. The Green Guy. That's pretty boring, huh?" Another flight down, they were nearing the entrance. It was straight ahead. Oh how much Spiderman wished he could pull them along with one more web. But he was maxed out. This was it. His wounds hurt and stung worse than any before. He imagined most of his ribs were cracked. He tried to ignore it though. He would be healed completely in a few days. Harry wasn't so lucky, he would take time, if he lived at all.

"I gotta stop, Pete–" Harry said, trying to pull away.

"Just a little further." Peter told him.

"Common, I can't, just a quick stop."

"No, now suck it up, Green Guy."

Harry glared at him, but continued to move. They were outside now. The town was cheering, helicopters buzzing like a thousand gnats. He was pelted with the sand the apparently gone sandman had left. His throat went dry, his leg went numb. He couldn't go much farther. He at least remembered to put his visor back up, as Peter replaced what was left of his mask. It was good enough to cover them, and that's all they needed in the wave of camera flashes.

Harry stumbled in the sand. Only a quarter of the way to the crowed. He wasn't going to make it. He sunk out of Spiderman's grasp, listing to one side until softly hitting ground. Peter looked down at him, consumed also in his own blood fall. He nearly didn't understand the scene. He forgot for a moment where he was. He took another couple steps to the crowed, who was beginning to understand the heroes were suddenly not on the better end of the great battle. From the corner of his mask, Spiderman saw the paramedics being rallied by good-ole Mary Jane.

"Hey, Harry, you gonna be all right?" he called over to his friend.

"I hate. . .you." Harry grunted his reply.

Peter wanted to laugh but it wouldn't come. In a few moments the paramedics were on them, poking and prodding areas that made Harry simply pass out. _The lucky sucker,_ Spiderman thought with mild jealousy. He felt everything the paramedic decided to do to him. With all honesty, he was nearly deciding to just leave, hang in his apartment until he healed, then check on the billionaire friend later.

"Spiderman, can you hear me?"

Peter looked at the medic who addressed him. "Huh? What?"

"What's your buddy's name? He's got one doesn't he?"

Peter thought beneath the cover of his mask, striking a quick glance at Harry, who they were carting off. This could be a life changing decision here. He could be a good friend, and say something nifty like The Green Samuria, or he could be a cheesy dweeb and say The Green Vomit! "Hobgoblin." The word seemed to fit. An inspiration from Harry's father. Maybe his friend would appreciate it, after he recovered.

After all, Harry didn't have to help them. Save them.

Peter smiled. Maybe this was him turning over a knew leaf, into a kinder gentler type of Osborn. He burst out laughing, causing the paramedics to look at him strangely as if he was wearing red and blue spandex and calling himself a human spider . . .oh . . .wait . . . .

* * *

Well, that's it. Hoped you liked it. this was going to be a full chaptered book, but I lost the inspiration, so the ending kinda sucks. Sorry mates. Hope for better the next time!

please review it! I haven't had one in SOOO long. It would be nice:)


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